Crush by Stefan Petrucha

Author:Stefan Petrucha
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins

“What are we doing here?” Jonathan asked.

Cade made a left off the main road onto a dirt trail running through the center of a narrow wooded area north of town. The evergreens were lush, and heavy limbs reached down to sweep the top of the pickup like the brushes of a car wash. The ground was hard-packed dirt, filled with pits. Even with the expensive truck’s suspension, Jonathan felt every hole and bump beneath the tires.

“We’re drinking a beer for Toby,” Ox said. “We’re going to toast his memory, man. It’s like the thing to do. To show our respects? Then we’ll hit the hospital to visit Emma.”

“It’s like bad news first, then good, right?” Cade added.

Great, Jonathan thought. An alarm sounded in the back of his mind, warning him that being out in the woods with his two remaining tormentors was a less than brilliant situation. But Ox and Cade were being cool. They seemed genuinely changed by the fate of their friend.

The Ram made a final lurch, and Cade killed the engine. Next to him, Ox nodded his head earnestly like they were about to view Toby’s body in the funeral home or something. The headlights remained on. Tree trunks, pale in the halogen beams, stood like columns holding up the night. At the farthest reach of the light, the edge of the lake lapped gently against the shore.

“In a few days, they’ll have those stupid white crosses and all kinds of crap,” Cade said, sounding solemn and angry. “They’ll build a lame little shrine for him. They’ll nail pictures and poems and shit on a tree trunk out here, and some brain-dead cheerleader will leave a stuffed animal, like it means something to him. But that’s not Toby, man. Toby wasn’t about that stuff. He lived, you know? He surfed it fast and nasty. A blunt. A beer. Jacked up on caf and barreling through the night. He wasn’t about flowers or poems.”

“Totally,” Ox shouted.

“Yeah!” Cade yelled.

Jonathan leaned back, startled by this display. The guys in front of him threw out their fists, connecting with each others’ knuckles. Punch it in.

“For Toby,” Ox said, throwing open the door of the pickup.

Cade also climbed out of the truck, but Jonathan remained in his seat, unsure of what to do. This seemed like a private moment between a couple of triple-cappuccino-wired first-stringers. He quickly calculated the distance back to his house and figured they were two miles from Crossroads. It would take him at least forty minutes to walk home.

That might not be so bad. Suddenly the idea of attending a party filled with cut-and-paste replicas of Ox and Cade didn’t sound terribly fun. And he wondered if visiting Emma was ever really part of the plan. How late were visiting hours?

Before he could make up his mind, Ox leaned into the truck and said, “Come on, Barnes. You’re with us now.”

“Cool,” Jonathan said, and he almost smiled.

He slid toward the door. The phrase “You’re with us now” went right to the center of him.

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